Side by Side: Redux
by indigo's ocean
Summary: Completely rewriting/republishing one of my best-loved stories. "Problem child" Edward Elric, the German exchange student, expects nothing but fun when he starts school in Dublith, California. But after making a few friends (and getting in a few fights) he realizes two things: 1) maybe he's actually a little troubled, and 2) maybe he can deal with it. [Ed/Envy]
1. A Not-Entirely Unexpected Journey

I needed a writing project this summer and, being lazy (while also watching FMA: Brotherhood on Netflix), I decided to take a shot at rewriting this old fic. Same author, same (similar) plot, seven years after I started it the first time. I debated just replacing chapters but I'm starting it as a new story so 1) I (and you) don't lose the old one, and 2) for organizational purposes. Since this is basically rewriting what has already been written, updates should be fairly speedy.

Cheers!

* * *

**Chapter One  
**_A Not-Entirely-Unexpected Journey_

"I'm home," Ed called as he stomped into the large house, his voice echoing off the high ceiling of the entryway. He slammed the door behind him and dumped his bag of books and jacket unceremoniously on the wooden floor. "Oi, bastard! Where are you?"

"He's gone, Ed," said Alphonse, who padded out of the kitchen and down the hall to meet Ed halfway. "Why did you get home so late? You were supposed to be back an hour ago. Did you check your phone?"

"No," Ed grumbled, and added "Sorry," in spite of his bad mood. His phone was still in his bag, along with his classwork and books and long-forgotten detention slips. He'd always been bad about keeping in touch with Al through texts. "What's for dinner? Did that asshole leave us anything in the fridge?" he continued as he clomped down the hall into the kitchen with Al, taller and slightly more graceful, shadowing him.

"It's your turn to make it."

"Fuck!" Ed blurted, feeling secure in cursing because their father wasn't in the house (not that his presence would have given Ed anything but a brief moment of hesitation). He banged his fist against the fridge, producing a dull, metallic 'clunk.' "Fuck," he repeated, ripping off one of his gloves to examine the metallic hand underneath. "...Good, no damage." He flexed the prosthetic experimentally; it responded smoothly.

Al, who had flinched when Ed hit the refrigerator, now watched him closely, trying to discern the cause of his brother's bad mood. "I can make dinner if you want," he said, keeping a good distance from Ed. "You should take a break and calm down for a bit."

"No, it's fine, I'll cook," Ed said, stubborn as always, and opened the fridge, searching around for food. Al watched as he rummaged among the assorted tupperware containers and finally emerged, looking more discontented than ever. "There's no goddamn food!"

Al bit his lip but couldn't resist pointing out, "You were the one who was doing the shopping this week." He hadn't reminded Ed earlier, figuring that he'd remember eventually but had a lot to worry about already. Sometimes, though, Ed could be absentminded about very necessary things.

"Urgh!" Ed exclaimed, pressing both palms to his eyes (the metallic one was cold and hard against his sensitive skin) and then running them through his hair, pulling at his bangs and messing up his braid in his frustration. "Sorry, Al, I completely forgot. I'll go... tomorrow, I guess." It was already past six, and the little grocery in the center of town would be closing.

"It's fine," Al said, grinning a little. He had always been more resourceful with cooking, and there was plenty of usable food in the refrigerator if you knew how to look for it. He leaned against the counter, watching his brother carefully. "What's gotten you so angry anyway? Did something happen at school? Was it Russell?"

"More or less," Ed grumbled, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest. "You know the counselor, Ms. Vanderbilt?"

His brother nodded. Ms. Vanderbilt was known throughout the school not for her skills at counseling, but rather for her eccentric behavior—she would pick four or five students in each grade that she considered 'problematic' (whether or not the other teachers agreed), and force them into regular meetings with her; in the meantime, she would downplay or ignore other students concerns. Al was certain she'd get fired soon. It just hadn't happened yet.

"Well, she called me in after school," Ed continued. "She told me it seemed like something was 'bothering me,' you know, worse than usual." Ed was one of the so-called problematic students that Ms. Vanderbilt had her eye on this year. "She said if I keep acting up, I'd get expelled, which is _bullshit_, because I don't do anything!"

Al met his eyes and slowly raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, okay, fine, I do _some_ things, but Russell's the one who starts every fight! But _he's_ not a 'problem child,' so he can get away with anything."

Although he was still skeptical, Al let it slide.

"And _then_ she asked me if anything was wrong at home. Started talking shit about us all again—if it were just Dad, I wouldn't care, but she dropped some hints about mom and," Ed clenched his fist. "She thinks I have grief issues, or whatever, as if it hasn't been ages. And she still thinks Dad is abusive, even though I _told_ her, he doesn't do anything, literally, nothing..." Ed heaved a large sigh and slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table. "Anyway, I hate talking to her. So much for the last week of term, right?"

As Ed's story continued, Al's demeanor had become progressively more sympathetic. No one liked Ms. Vanderbilt, except apparently the government and the administrators of their public school; while he had never been one of her 'problem kids,' he could see where Ed was coming from. "Look," he said, moving to the fridge. "I'll make dinner tonight if you promise to go shopping tomorrow afternoon."

Ed looked up at him, about to protest.

"Don't argue, or I'll tell Ms. Vanderbilt that you're being problematic at home, too."

For a moment, Ed looked indignant, but his composure was broken by a large laugh. "Alright, alright, I get the hint." He grinned at Al, his usual cheeriness coming back. "I'll go pick up my stuff, then. And change."

"Good," Al said, grinning back as he opened the door of the fridge and looked around. Characteristically, Ed had passed over the substantial remnants of Sunday's roast beef, the container full of mashed potatoes, and the fresh carrots and radishes in the crisper drawer. As Ed left to change, he began to take out ingredients. They wouldn't have anything fancy for dinner, but they wouldn't starve, and there would be enough for their father, too, if he came home from work before midnight.

As Al began to transfer mashed potatoes into a ceramic bowl, he heard Ed come crashing back down the stairs and nearly dropped his spoon, jumping back as Ed careened into the kitchen, waving a piece of paper.

"Al Al Al Al Al!" he called, practically jumping up and down in his excitement. "Look at this, look at this!" He shoved the paper into Al's hand and hovered nearby, waiting for him to read.

Al unfolded the sheet.

_Dear Mr. Elric_, it read. _We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted into the State Alchemy Exchange Program in the United States. Due to the financial constraints elaborated in your application, we are prepared to offer you..._

Al skipped ahead.

_...per your request, you will be placed with Pinako Rockbell in Dublith, California, and will attend Central High School. We wish you luck with_...

"Granny Pinako!" Ed shouted, evidently unable to hide his excitement any longer. His concentration broken, Al looked up—he had read the important parts already. "We're going to get to stay with Granny Pinako!"

"'We?'" Al repeated. From the moment he had taken the letter, he'd prepared himself for disappointment. "This letter is addressed to you, isn't it?"

"And yours is right here too!" Ed crowed, shoving the envelope into his hands. Al put Ed's letter down carefully and then opened the envelope up, his hands a little shaky, to see another letter, folded up. Maybe Ed hadn't read it, and maybe this one was a rejection, meaning Ed could go spend five months in America but Al would have to stay here, alone with their dad in a house that was too big for all of them...

It took him a while to even work up the courage to open the letter, with Ed vibrating excitedly next to him. Then he took a breath and read: _We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted_—

"I got in!" he yelled.

"Of _course_ you did!" Ed replied, shouting too, as if it wasn't obvious that Ed had always been the more gifted, out of the two of them. He snatched the letter out of Al's hand and bounced away, waving both papers above his head like victory flags. "Goodbye bastard, goodbye Vanderbilt, goodbye Germany, hello Dublith, hello Granny, hello United States of _America_!"

Although he wasn't exactly dancing around the kitchen, Al was just as happy. Both of them needed to get away for a while; now, they could practice their English, stay with an old family friend, and not worry too much about money.

It was almost too good to be true.

"It's too good to be true," Russell sneered the next afternoon, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at Ed. They were standing in the quad area of the small high school. Class had been dismissed for thirty minutes, but he'd been running around getting his things together; Russell, too, had remained later for some reason. And of course Ed had to brag to him about his upcoming exchange trip.

"Well it's not," Ed said staunchly, crossing his arms over his own chest in an unconscious mimicry of Russell's pose.

Russell scoffed. "So what, you're just going to pack up and leave for America tomorrow or something? People need _visas_ and _passports_ and _airplane tickets_, they don't just _go_. Hopefully you didn't waste a ton of money applying for something that's not even going to happen." He snorted.

"I have a passport and they bought us tickets, _and_ they're getting the visa," Ed said, lifting his chin defiantly. "We had to give them all the info when we applied so we could get the visa as soon as possible. Anyway, they're giving us a scholarship! I bet you could never—"

He was cut off by a firm hand on his shoulder, and whirled around to see Ms. Vanderbilt watching him with raised eyebrows. "Mr. Elric."

Ed glared, and bristled even more as Russell snickered behind him. "What?" he asked rudely.

Ms. Vanderbilt didn't appear to notice his rudeness, or she'd just become accustomed to it. "Congratulations on your upcoming study abroad trip. I hope you make the most out of this opportunity."

She smiled; Ed continued to scowl.

"I just wanted to inform you, though, that the State Alchemy program is very strict with its students—stricter, even, than other programs, since you're being funded by a branch of the Ministry of Defense. Any disciplinary infractions—just one fight—and it's over."

Maybe it was just Ed's paranoia, but Ms. Vanderbilt looked _way_ too happy about the possibility that Ed would get kicked out. That way, Ed imagined, she could have her precious 'problem child' all to herself.

"I get it, I get it," he said, sidestepping out of her grip and away from Russell, who was watching the exchange avidly. The bastard was always sticking his nose into Ed's business. "No fighting, I'll be on my best behavior, military discipline, blah blah blah, whatever…" Shouldering his bag with a little more enthusiasm, he gave Russell and Ms. Vanderbilt a mock salute. "See you in three months!"

Without giving anyone a chance to reply, Ed ran away, his red coat flapping behind him and his bag held high on his shoulder. There was no point in saying goodbye to the people he hated—and anyway, Dublith, and the whole U.S.A., was waiting for him.


	2. Something Like a Beginning

In the interest of cultural accuracy, the boys now go to the U.S., rather than Japan. Pinako, however, is actually Japanese! Third generation, living in Dublith, a small town just outside of Sacramento (based on a real suburb/town I've visited once).

* * *

**Chapter 2**  
_Something Like a Beginning_

Ed awoke from his nap with a start, grunting a little and blinking up at the blinding light above him. He groaned, yawned, and reached up to try to turn it off, but ended up accidentally turning the knob that controlled the air conditioner. He yelped as he was blasted with cold air, making Al open his eyes blearily.

"What are you doing?" he asked as Ed turned the air conditioning off aggressively and switched off the light as well.

"Just go back to sleep, Al."

Instead of leaning his head back against his seat, Al glanced up to the control panel and snickered. "It's not rocket science, big brother."

"Shut up," Ed muttered, though without any real anger. They had been on this plane for at least seven hours now, and at this point everything felt like rocket science. Soon they would be landing in Dallas, but they had to go through customs and catch another plane there in order to get to Sacramento by seven p.m. California time, at which point the Rockbell's would pick them up for the drive to Dublith, and also at which point Ed imagined his brain would be completely fried.

Al chuckled and yawned, closing his eyes again. Ed glanced at him, then at the businessman next to him (who hadn't said a word to either of them the whole flight), before looking warily at the TV screen in front of him. He'd watched two in-flight movies already and really wasn't feeling up to another. Instead, he reached into the seat pocket and pulled out the book he'd been reading before: _Equivalent Exchange—The Philosophy of the Ages_. Opening it up, he let his fingers rest absently on the page as he stared out the window into the dark. He liked to imagine he could see moonlight glancing off the surface of the ocean or the clouds, but there was really nothing to see, and the plane wouldn't meet up with the sun for another hour at least.

He yawned widely and turned back to his book. "Equivalent exchange, or _touka koukan_, as it was called by its Japanese creator, has become a popular philosophy among many atheists and agnostics today," he read.

_I wonder what America will be like_, Ed thought, letting his mind drift as he read. He'd been there before, but only when he was a kid; it had been at least eight years, and a lot had happened in that time.

"For the scientifically minded, equivalent exchange relates to the law of conservation of mass—every change is merely a reconstitution of preexisting material. Nothing wholly new can be or ever has been created. This philosophy can also be compared to a universal Hammurabi's code: an eye for an eye, a life for a life, and so on."

_Will anyone miss us? I don't have many friends, and Al only has Fletcher... who's Russell's brother..._

"Equivalent exchange can also be likened to the Hindu belief in karma, or the Christian golden rule. Each change, whether material or not, relates to the events that came before it. In essence, you get what you give."

_Maybe I'll make new friends in Dublith. We've been through enough bad things that there's got to be plenty of good luck stored in our future. Equivalent exchange and all that_.

"This book will treat the formation of the philosophy of equivalent exchange and its place in the arena of modern philosophy, then discuss famous people who have used these ideas to their advantage."

_Well, whatever happens, it can't be worse than where we came from_, Ed thought, letting his head fall against the cool window. The heavy bound book slipped from his limp fingers as he closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep.

x.o.x

Dallas International Airport, and the process of customs, visas, and plane changes, had passed like a dream, and Edward felt like he was waking up for the first time when he stepped into the much quieter Sacramento airport. His entire body felt grungy and he had no idea what time it was, in the U.S. or in Germany. Al, walking next to him, looked just as bleary under the fluorescent lights.

"Tired?" Al asked him, grinning a little.

"Hmph," Ed said. He had no idea how Al could actually be happy after such a hellish international flight—not that anything had gone wrong. Ed just didn't travel too well. As they approached the exit that would get them out of the gate area and through security, he looked around. "Where's Granny Pinako?"

The question made Al frown slightly as he looked around. "I don't know. It's been a long time since we've seen her. Do you remember what she looks like?"

"It's hard to forget," Ed replied dryly. They'd reached the revolving doors of the exit and he took a deep breath and pushed through them, Al following behind him, both of them scanning the crowd of unfamiliar faces.

"Edward! Alphonse!" came a sudden shout, and Ed whirled around to see an excited looking girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked familiar, so she had to be...

"Winry?!" Ed and Al said at the same time, their eyes widening in surprise.

Winry Rockbell laughed, hurrying forward to hug them both. She'd grown a lot taller since they had seen her last, and her figure had filled out; she looked amazing in a dark jacket, a short skirt, and black, laced-up boots. "You got taller!" she told them both, then reached out to ruffle Ed's hair, eliciting a growl. "Well, sort of."

She was saved from Ed's impending rant by the arrival of her grandmother, Pinako Rockbell, who also moved forward to hug the boys (successfully distracting Ed). "It's been a while," she said in her gravelly voice, stepping back to look up at them both.

"Wow," Ed said in a loud whisper. "She's even shorter than I remember."

"And you're not as tall as I thought you'd be," Pinako said, forestalling another one of Ed's rants by hitting him on the forearm. ("_Ow_!") "Let's head to the baggage claim. I imagine you boys brought plenty of things."

"And gifts!" Al said eagerly. "From Resembool." He grabbed Ed by the arm (a gesture that was met with a protest and then reluctant acquiescence) and hustled off behind Pinako, Winry walking happily beside them.

"How is Resembool?" Winry asked as they took the escalator down to the ground level. She held her purse in her hands and looked at them both curiously. "Is the grocer still as grumpy as ever?" Winry had grown up in Germany with her parents, who had been military doctors; when they were killed on duty (in a mysterious situation that was still classified), she had moved to California with her grandmother Pinako. But she missed her childhood home sometimes.

Ed shrugged. "Yeah, he's a giant jerk," he replied, earning a frown from Al—who thought the same thing, but in a less blunt way. "But he totally loved mom, so he still gives us discounts on the stuff we buy."

Winry laughed. "I know he's a giant softie, even if he says he hates kids. He used to give me candy bars all the time."

"Wish he gave _me_ candy bars," Ed commented.

They reached the baggage claim, where the carousel was starting to move. Ed hoped that their bags had made it intact; the last thing he wanted to do after such a long flight was spend hours on the phone with Lufthansa or United Airlines to try to retrieve their lost luggage. He divided his attention between the conveyor belt, which was beginning to spit out bags, and Al and Winry, who were continuing the conversation about Resembool.

Sometimes Ed felt bad for Al, who had always been fonder of their home town than he was. Ed was the one who had been dying to get out, away from the too-familiar faces and places and people who looked at him with pity instead of, well, anything else. He was the one who had pushed them into this study abroad program too, though he imagined Al was also happy to stay with the Rockbells for a while. But if Ed had a choice, he'd never go back to their shitty town. Al wasn't like that.

Ed supposed his younger brother had always been better at forgiving and forgetting.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when Al grabbed his arm. "Hey, that one's yours!" he said, pointing at the large red suitcase coming down the ramp and onto the carousel.

"Yeah!" Ed cheered, hurrying up to grab it with both hands and lug it off the belt. Al's bag followed soon after, as did the bag they shared between the two of them, and soon all three suitcases were in their possession. "Great," Ed said with relish, rubbing his hands together. No airline phone calls tonight.

Pinako looked them over—Al was holding his suitcase, Ed had his, and Winry took the one they shared between them. "Shall we?" she asked.

x.o.x

Dublith was about half an hour away from Sacramento and they made it in fairly good time with Pinako behind the wheel. (There were a few near-accidents, but Ed, transfixed by the green and wide open landscape passing by on each side of the highway, didn't really notice. Al and Winry, however, did.) The Rockbell residence was on the southern end of the town, near the outskirts where the city gave way to hilly, open land; Pinako owned several acres on which she kept a few dogs, chickens, and one cow.

As soon as they got out of the car, Ed stretched widely, grinning. In Resembool he often felt cramped by the close rows of houses, and no matter how far you drove, you were always in a village, never in any sort of open space. But here, if he looked out behind the Rockbell's place, the only things he could see were mountains in the near distance. No houses, steeples, warehouses. Just land.

"Ahhhh, this is great!" he said, and turned to Winry and Al only to be bowled over by what turned out to be a large black dog. Ed yelped as his backside hit the ground.

Winry ran towards them. "Stop it, Den!" she commanded, half-laughing, as Ed ineffectually tried to push the mutt off of him. She grabbed its collar, yanking it back and allowing Ed to scramble to his feet and wipe the slobber off his face.

Pinako and Al were already taking some of the bags up to the house, Pinako carrying their largest bag with apparent ease. Ed glared at the dog. "Hey, I've got a job to do. What gives?"

Winry laughed again, letting the dog go; this time, it walked up to Ed wagging its tail and sniffed at his gloves. "Sorry," she said. "This is Den, he's our house dog. He gets a little excited whenever there are visitors."

Ed gave the dog a stern look and then grabbed his backpack and suitcase out of the car, letting Winry shut the trunk. "He better learn who's boss around here," he said, giving the dog another glare. It wagged its tail and tried to lick his gloved hands. "Eugh!"

"Come on, Den," Winry said, whistling. The dog bounded after her and up the steps, going into the house. Ed gave his slobbered-on glove a disgusted look, but followed.

The interior of the house was about as nice as the exterior, with warm wooden floors and soft rugs. Ed followed Winry's leave and kicked off his boots at the entryway.

"Edward, your room is down this hall," Pinako said, waving him towards her. "Al is right here, and you're here," she said, gesturing to two rooms on either side of the hallway. "You'll be sharing a bathroom. Winry and I sleep upstairs."

Ed dragged his suitcase into his room and then let it go, shrugging off his backpack as well. He looked around. His room was nicely furnished, with white walls and a blue and white bedspread. It was a little less space than he was used to at home, but it was still private, and still his own. "This is awesome," he said with a grin, taking off his gloves and leaving them on the bed. He figured Winry and Pinako knew about his prosthetic already; there was no point in hiding it. He shrugged off his jacket, too.

"Ah, your room is great too!" Al said, poking his head in the doorway behind them. He was grinning; Ed imagined Al's grin was mirrored on his own face. "This is great, thank you so much, Granny Pinako!"

Pinako chuckled. "I'll let you boys fight over the shower later," she said. "I want to get you fed and ready for bed. You must be tired after the long trip."

"But with the jet lag, you probably won't sleep in too late," Winry chimed in. She had made her way down the hall, Den at her feet, and was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed

Pinako shooed her out of the way. "Get the boys something to drink! So," the old woman continued as Ed and Al followed her down the hallway, "tell me about things in Resembool. How's your father?"

"Same old, same old," Ed grumbled under his breath, glaring at the floor. He'd hoped that his first day in America wouldn't be marred by bringing up all the reasons he'd wanted to leave Germany, but he supposed no one could be _that_ lucky.

Al, as usual, was more charitable. "He's doing well," he replied. "He's able to spend more time researching than teaching, now, which makes things less stressful."

"Hmmm," Pinako said. She hadn't missed Ed's reaction. But they were in the kitchen now, and she bustled around the refrigerator. "How about some onigiri, boys?"

"It's rice balls, wrapped in seaweed," Winry supplied helpfully as she emerged from a door (probably to the garage, Ed imagined) holding three Cokes. One went to Al, one went to Ed, and one she kept for herself. "It's Japanese food," she continued. "Grandma's specialty. You'll like it."

Ed shrugged. "Okay," he said, carefully opening his Coke. He didn't want it bubbling up and spilling all over him.

"I've had it before!" Al said, craning his neck to watch with interest as Pinako got a tray from the refrigerator. "We had a Japanese exchange student in my class last year, and she made some for everyone before she left."

"Great," Pinako said, giving them all plates and placing the tray of rice balls down on the table in front of them. "Then you'll be able to show Ed how to eat them."

"Hey," Ed said sulkily, taking a swig of Coke—and immediately making a face, nearly spitting it out. "What the _hell_ is this?!"

Al looked alarmed, Pinako, amused, and Winry burst out laughing, doubling over and covering her mouth. "It's American Coke!" she crowed when she was able. "In Germany it's made with real sugar. Here..." She shrugged. "I have no idea." She patted Ed on the shoulder comfortingly. "You'll get used to it."

Ed took another, more tentative sip, and pulled a face. "Ugh, if you say so," he replied, making a private resolution never to drink it again. Al tried his own Coke and, while he was better at hiding his reaction than his brother, Ed could see the way he wrinkled his nose. So there, U.S.A. If _Al_ didn't like it, then the Coke was absolutely horrible. He put his drink down and reached for a rice ball instead, and Pinako's homemade food turned out much better than the sodas.

While the four of them ate the light dinner, Winry began to tell them about her school, Central High, in her opinion the better of Dublith's two high schools. Ed listened as she described the administration, the teachers, and her classmates, in that order, and began to look forward to starting school in a week.

_Equivalent exchange_, he thought. _We've been through enough bad shit. We deserve something good to happen for once_.

* * *

Reviews & con crit appreciated as always!


	3. Pizza Day

I don't know what high schoolers wear. I don't know what they do or what classes they take. It's been four (or more) years since I was in high school. I'm a dinosaur.

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**_Pizza Day_

Ed looked at himself critically in the mirror of the bathroom he shared with Al. His hair was messy, but not too messy, pulled back into the usual braid down his back. He'd picked out his usual black jeans, boots, and his dark gray jacket, then jazzed thing up a little with a red v-neck shirt. The temperature in California had been surprisingly cool, at least in comparison with Ed's expectations. He'd been dreaming about balmy summer weather all year round. Luckily Al had forced him to bring a few jackets and long-sleeved shirts anyway. And maybe it was better than this, he thought, rearranging his bangs one more time before slipping on his gloves. At least this way he wouldn't get awkward questions about his prosthetics on the first day of class.

"_Ed!_" Winry called from the kitchen. "_We're going to be late_!"

"Coming!" Ed replied. He'd overslept on the first day of school (already), and Al had needed to come to his room and wake him up. Then he'd spent so long getting ready that he hadn't had time for breakfast, but that didn't matter so much; he was used to going without food until lunch. He took a deep breath, nodded solemnly at his reflection, and turned on his heel, flicking off the bathroom light on his way out.

Winry was tapping her foot in the kitchen, and Al was sitting at the table, looking slightly queasy. He was always worse with nerves than Ed, who tended to act overconfident when he was feeling anxious. "Finally," Winry said. "It took you long enough."

Ed shrugged. "Our school back home has uniforms," he replied. Picking out an outfit for school was something totally new for him. He hoped it didn't take him this long to figure something out every time. He slipped on his shoes as Al got up.

Al was wearing olive green corduroys, turned up slightly at the ankles, with a white shirt, a cute brown cardigan, and a tan jacket. Ed wished he could look so effortlessly fashionable all the time, but his own style was a self-conscious mix of punk and practical, which never turned out quite the way that he wanted.

"Are you ready?" Al asked quietly, moving over to stand next to him as Winry grabbed her car keys.

Ed shrugged and grinned up at him. "Do I have a choice?"

"It's fifteen minutes to school," Winry said, brushing past them to the garage door. Ed and Al trailed behind her like lost puppies and watched as she unlocked the car. "So we should get there by seven-forty, which gives us plenty of time to see the dean and get your schedules. What electives did you sign up for?"

Ed took shotgun and Al got in the back seat, which was their usual arrangement for car rides. "Programming and metalwork," Ed said, turning so he could look out the window. He'd been here a week already but had yet to be bored by the scenery.

"I'm taking the third year French class and band," Al replied.

"Ooh, what instrument?"

"Oboe," Al said. "I had lessons for it a while ago and I'm hoping I haven't forgotten everything."

Winry laughed. "Well, our band doesn't actually march, so you shouldn't have too much of a learning curve," she replied. "I watched a documentary about a high school marching band once. All the practices and the rehearsals looked like hell. Especially since it was in Texas. Are there marching bands in Germany?"

Ed tuned out the conversation, leaning his elbow on the window and propping up his chin in his hand. They had visited the school a few days ago, just so Winry could take them around and familiarize them with its layout; Ed wondered how things would look with students streaming through the halls. Though Winry said it was a small school, the buildings (and the parking lot) had been much bigger than Ed expected.

Al would probably have the easiest time of things, Ed reflected. He was integrating into the freshman class, which meant he would be among a bunch of other kids who were attending Central High for the first time, though many of them were probably arriving with groups of friends from their previous schools. Meanwhile, Ed was entering school as a junior. He imagined that by now, most of the people in his grade would have cliques and reputations. Winry, who was born a year before Al and a year after Ed, and was therefore a sophomore, had assured him he would be popular if only because of his "sexy" German accent. But Ed wasn't sure if he wanted to hang out with the popular kids, assuming they would even talk to him. Those weren't the kind of people he'd hang out with in Resembool, even if he felt like making friends.

He came out of his reverie slightly as they approached the school, which loomed in the distance like a pile of blocks—the buildings were rectangular with flat roofs, and the two-story ones resembled cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Winry and Al had fallen silent, and the silence held as Winry pulled into the parking lot and parked her pickup truck near the back of the parking lot.

"Here we are," she said. The car was barely stopped before Ed had unbuckled and hopped out, bag in hand, looking around at the suddenly bustling parking lot. "It's a long walk to the principal's office, sorry," Winry added apologetically, grabbing her backpack. "But I always park in the back. It helps me get out of here sooner." She laughed.

"Is parking arranged by grade level?" Ed asked. Over dinner last night, Winry had started telling them about the privileges of seniority in American high schools, but they had gotten sidetracked in a discussion of American movies and pop culture.

Winry shrugged and began heading across the lot, trailed by Ed and Al. "Seniors generally take the first two rows, and if you park there and they know you're a junior or a sophomore, you'll get harassed. But otherwise, it's fair game."

The parking lot was already pretty full, even though school wasn't starting for twenty minutes, and as they walked to the school Ed felt (or thought he felt) several curious gazes trained his way. Central High wasn't too big, and only had three feeder middle schools, so he imagined that everyone was pretty familiar with each other already. He and Al must stick out like sore thumbs.

Luckily, they didn't have to walk through the halls before getting to the dean's office, which was located near the front of the first building. Winry got them inside by announcing that she was escorting the two new German exchange students; Ed looked around the office and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the motivational posters plastered around the room. They were just as bad in English as they were in German.

The dean of students, at her desk, looked up as soon as Winry entered. "Good morning!" she said brightly. She was a lot younger than Ed expected, with short hair and sparkling hazel eyes. It immediately made him suspicious. "I'm Gracia Elointon. You must be Edward and Alphonse Elric." She stood behind her desk and reached out to shake Al's hand, then Ed's. "I've already got folders for you both. Ed, you'll be a junior, right?" She turned to Al, handing him a folder. "And Al, you're a freshman?"

Al had taken the folder reluctantly, looking at Ed, while Winry, standing towards the back of the office, had both hands over her mouth, smothering giggles. "Um," Al began when Ed refused to make a move to accept the folder. "I'm Alphonse. That's Edward." He handed Ed the folder he had received.

"Oh!" The dean looked surprised for a minute, like most people did when they realized that Ed was the oldest of the pair. Ed was used to it by now. That didn't mean he liked it. "My apologies, Edward." She handed the freshman year folder to Al.

"Right," Ed said, earning himself a slightly disapproving look from Al and a surprised look from Ms. Elointon. Instead of responding gracefully, like he knew he probably should, he flipped open the folder, pulling out his schedule.

After a short pause, the principal continued her speech—welcome to Central High, what a great learning opportunity, we hope you make the best of it, please come to me if you have any trouble, blah, blah, blah. Ed busied himself looking over his schedule.

Central High worked on an eight-period system, with each class spanning one hour of the eight to three school day. One of the three periods in the middle of the day would be set aside for lunch. Ed, typically, had gotten the last lunch. Otherwise, his schedule didn't seem too bad:

_1st period_: Dr. Marcoh, AP Calculus, Room 205  
_2nd period_: Ms. Schezka, English Literature, Room 805  
_3rd period_: Mr. Armstrong, Metalworking, Room FA5  
_4th period_: Mr. Grand, U.S. History, Room 810  
_5th period_: Ms. Armstrong, Study Hall, Room 601  
_6th period:_ Lunch  
_7th period_: Mr. Tucker, Introduction to Computer Programming, Room 403  
_8th period_: Mr. Kimblee, AP Chemistry, Room 210

By the time he was done perusing it, Ms. Elointon had mostly finished her speech, which was fine with Ed. He didn't particularly want to spend any more time in the overly cheery office. It unnerved him.

"So welcome to Central High, and I'm so glad you're with us for the year," the principal finished, giving them both a wide smile. If she was aware that Ed had tuned out for the entirety of her little lecture, she didn't show it.

"Thank you," Al said, and a moment later, Ed added, "Thanks," offering her a grin that was more forced than felt. Still, Ed figured he had made an effort. And maybe the office wasn't a front, and she really was as nice as she seemed (yeah, right—she'd probably turn out like his counselor back in Resembool).

"I'm going to take you both to your lockers now," Winry said, peering over Ed's shoulder at his schedule. The locker number was printed on top, along with the combination; Ed made a mental note _never_ to lose this paper. "Ooh, you have Kimblee for Chemistry," she added, snickering a little. "Good luck with that."

"Wait, what am I supposed to expect?" Ed asked, squawking a little—already, apparently, one of his teachers had a Reputation. But Winry wasn't listening.

"Your locker is in the hall next to your first class, lucky you," Winry said, grabbing Ed's wrist and Al's wrist and towing them both away from the dean's office and down the hall, which was rapidly growing more crowded. Ed's locker was in the same building, and he had to step over several people, sitting on the floors and chattering to one another, to get there. "You know how to open the lock, right?" Winry asked brightly.

The padlock didn't look too daunting. And Ed had the combination. "I'll manage," he grumbled as she dragged Al away to find his locker.

"Good luck!" Al called, his voice nearly as bright as Winry's. Ed waved them both off. He knew Al would do fine—better than him, probably—on his first day of school.

Opening his locker was daunting but doable, even though it took about five minutes and Ed was red-faced from the imagined stares of passers-by as he had struggled with it. Really, not too many people had paid attention to him; it was the first day of school and the returning students were used to seeing freshmen cursing at their padlocks. Ed stuffed some extra binders and notebooks into the empty space, keeping two in his backpack, before looking around the ever more crowded hallway. Winry had told him that his calculus classroom was in the same general area; to his relief, Ed spotted room 207 just feet away and followed the numbers down to 205.

The bell hadn't rung yet, but when Ed peeked into the classroom, there were already a few people there—two girls who were sitting next to each other and chatting about their summers, and a blond-haired boy with his head pillowed on his arms. He looked like he was fast asleep.

Ed pushed the door open and entered the room, glancing around before picking a seat in the back of the class, on the opposite side of the room from the sleeping student. Then he got out a notebook and crossed his fingers awkwardly, before deciding that looked too nerdy and leaning his chin on his hand instead.

As people filed into the classroom, Ed pretended not to notice the curious looks he was receiving. This was a senior level class, the highest math class available at Central High (it would probably still be a little easier than whatever Ed would have taken in Germany), and therefore it was probably obvious that he was new to the class. Luckily, the bell rang before Ed could get too uncomfortable, and the teacher, an older man with a flat nose and graying hair, walked into the room.

"Good morning, class, and welcome to AP Calculus," Dr. Marcoh said. Ed wondered why a man with a doctorate in anything would choose to teach at an out of the way high school in Dublith, California. "It's good to see you all here today. And you all probably know that we have a long, hard road ahead of us until the AP tests in May. Now, I have the syllabus for the course with me, but first—"

Marcoh's speech was cut off when the door opened and two more students stumbled inside. "Sorry we're late, Dr. Marcoh," the first one said in a deep, rich voice. He had straight black hair that brushed nonchalantly away from his face, and Ed wasn't sure whether to find his confident smirk annoying or attractive. He leaned toward considering it annoying.

"We were caught in traffic, or something," the second arrival said, grinning. He looked like he had just woken up, with dark smudges under his eyes, but that wasn't what caught Ed's attention—the boy's dark hair was long and streaked with green, tied in an unruly ponytail at the top of his head, and his dark eyes were amused. Unlike the other student, Ed didn't have to determine he was attractive or not. The tight black jeans and tight shirt didn't hide much, nor did the multiple bead and jelly bracelets adorning the student's slim wrists. Ed swallowed and stared down at his notebook.

Marcoh frowned. "Envy Bradley. Roy Mustang. Looks like you're getting your term as student body president off to a good start. I won't count you tardy this time, but consider it a warning."

The shorter-haired student chuckled, having the grace to look a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Dr. Marcoh," he said. "Won't happen again. If I can help it." Ed assumed that was Roy Mustang, student body president. He decided immediately that Mustang was more annoying than attractive, if he was involved in student government.

The other student, Envy Bradley, didn't seem bothered at all. He grinned, waved to the class, and flopped down into one of the open desks at the front of the classroom, next to Mustang. Ed watched the back of his ponytail under the pretext of listening to Dr. Marcoh.

"As I was saying," Dr. Marcoh continued, with a long-suffering expression, "before I hand out the syllabus, I you all to have a chance to introduce yourselves."

_Oh God, no_, Ed thought, instantly freezing up. He didn't come to America for this.

"So, in order from the front of the classroom to the back, I'd like you to say your first name, last name, and a little bit about yourself. I know some of you, but I haven't had a chance to teach all of you and I want to build a sense of classroom camaraderie." He offered them a smile. Ed scowled back. "Noah, why don't you start us off?"

Apparently, Noah was a girl's name, Ed thought with mild surprise as one of the girls who had been in the classroom from the beginning stood, turned, and smiled at the class. "Hi, I'm Noah Grey. I know most of you know me, but I'm president of the school's Equestrian Club if any of you are looking to join." She gave a shy wave before turning back around and sitting down again.

_Equestrian Club?_ Ed wondered with some derision. But it made sense; Dublith was a fairly rural area and he imagined many of the students lived on farms or ranches, like the Rockbells.

He tuned out until it was Envy Bradley's turn to introduce himself. Envy made a show of great effort as he rose to his feet, looking at the class apathetically. "Envy Bradley," he said flatly. "I don't really want to be here today. That's my fact." As he turned around to flop back into his desk, his eyes met Ed's. Maybe Ed was imagining it, but he thought he saw Envy widen his eyes for a moment before turning all the way back around.

Ed didn't pay much attention to any of the other introductions, though he half listened to Roy Mustang introduce himself, promise a great welcoming speech at the rally at the end of the day (so there would be a rally? that was new), and advertise student council elections at the end of the month. Most people, actually, were using this platform to promote various clubs and organizations. They were all so involved. Ed was privately disgusted.

His turn came too soon for his liking. Ed stood up. "Hello," he said awkwardly, hyper-conscious of his accent even after one word. "My name is Edward Elric." Then, because he knew there was no way of getting out of explaining sooner or later, he added, "I'm an exchange student from Germany. I'll be studying here this year." Then, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks, he sat back down.

"Ah, welcome," Dr. Marcoh said. "I hope you enjoy your year with us, and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

Ed nodded mechanically, already bored of the class, the teacher, the subject, and the three other introductions that followed his own. When he had stood up in the front of the class, he hadn't looked to see whether Envy was listening. But he thought he'd seen Envy turn to look at him, something he hadn't done for anyone else in the class.

Who was he kidding, Ed wondered as Marcoh passed out the syllabi and discussed his expectations and plans for the course. Envy looked like another Problem Kid anyway, the type that Ms. Vanderbilt probably wouldn't want him hanging around. And Ed hadn't come here to make friends. He'd just applied to this exchange program to get out of Germany, away from Resembool, away from Vanderbilt, away from his dad.

Still, if his eyes kept drifting to the back of Envy's head as the class period continued, who could blame him?

x.o.x

By the time lunch rolled around, Ed was starving and pretty much done with the day, actually and metaphorically speaking. He'd survived five of his seven classes (to be fair, one of the periods had been a study hall) and, only had to introduce himself in three of them, including calculus. He _mostly_ hadn't looked like a fool, as far as he was aware, and, while he hadn't made any friends, he hadn't made any enemies, either. For someone like Ed, that was an accomplishment.

On the other hand, his teachers were among the strangest collection of adults he had ever met. Dr. Marcoh was fairly normal, but Ms. Shezka, the English teacher, was a timid bookworm who would get suddenly enthusiastic about something she had read. She was easily distracted and always seemed hassled. Mr. Armstrong lived up to his name, with a big body and an even bigger (if that was possible) personality. When he heard Ed was from Germany, his blue eyes had filled with tears and he said something about how the country had been the homeland of his family for generations. Ed had tuned out pretty quick.

Mr. Grand also lived up to his name—as big as Armstrong but darker, he taught history with an ominous glare and an emphasis on memorization. Ed was prepared to hate that class. Finally, Ms. Armstrong, his study hall supervisor, was probably related somehow to Mr. Armstrong, but had a completely different personality. Well-toned and definitely attractive, she projected an aura of cool capability that Ed found reassuring. And she hadn't forced him to introduce himself in front of the class. Ed could live with that. She had been his favorite teacher of the day so far.

Now it was lunch—Ed had escaped the weird adults to mill around in the lunch line with all the weird students. It looked like Al didn't have last lunch with him, nor did Winry. Ed supposed he would just grit his teeth and bear eating alone. The food looked crappy, too. Today's meal was apparently thin crust cardboard pizza, salad (mostly cabbage) drenched in a mayonnaise-based dressing, an overdone chocolate chip cookie, and a carton of milk.

Tray in hand, Ed was heading towards the cafeteria table when he was suddenly flanked by two people.

"It gets better if you don't think about what you're eating," one of them said, and Ed twisted around and looked up to see Roy Mustang grinning (more like smirking) down at him. "This year I'm spearheading a push to get us better cafeteria food, but until Central High gets a little more money, I'm afraid we're out of luck."

His little speech was met with a quiet snort from the person Ed's other side. Already knowing what he would see, Ed turned around to find Envy, holding his own tray and staring straight ahead.

"He thinks I make everything into a campaign speech," Roy explained. "You're Edward, right? Our German exchange student?"

Silently, Ed nodded. He wasn't quite sure what to say to Roy, who really did make everything sound like a campaign speech. He was probably one of those assholes who was going to go to law school and run for President, or Congress, or whatever, and try to rule the world.

"I'm Roy Mustang," Roy continued, as if Ed didn't know. He was apparently unaffected by Ed's taciturn behavior. "It's nice to meet you. I hear you're a junior? I'm impressed you're taking AP Calculus. Though I hear math classes are much more advanced in Europe."

"Probably," Ed said, a little unwillingly. After only talking with Al for most of his high school years (and Winry, at least during this past week), he felt like his social skills were pretty unforgivably rusty. That, and he knew his accent singled him out immediately. But Roy didn't seem to care.

"Maybe you can tutor me," he replied with a chuckle, steering them towards a table in the back of the cafeteria. Ed didn't particularly want to sit with him—and Envy, still walking along silently next to him, was a presence that made him even more uncomfortable—but he figured that sitting by yourself in a cafeteria was either social suicide or an invitation for even weirder people to come up and try to befriend you. Or both. So he dealt with it, sitting down on one side of the table while Roy and Envy took the other side.

Roy, apparently, wasn't done with the third degree. "So how was your day?" he asked as he picked up his cardboard-like slice of pizza, taking a bite. He was apparently unaffected by the taste.

Ed poked at his own pizza. It was greasy. "Not bad," he said.

"When I walked into class and saw you I thought you were a freshman who had wandered into our calculus class by mistake," Roy continued blithely. Ed's head jerked up. He thought he saw a glint of amusement in Roy's eye. "Have you always been short for your age?"

Edward tried not to get annoyed at the 'short' joke, he really did. But after holding his temper in check the entire day (even when people like Mr. Armstrong tested it constantly), his patience was rubbed raw. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE'S INVISIBLE COMPARED TO A BABY ANT, YOU FREAKY COWBOY PRESIDENT?"

The cafeteria fell silent for a moment as every head turned in Ed's direction. Mortified, Ed felt his face begin to flush.

The tension was broken by a loud snort. Envy, next to Roy, had clapped a hand over his mouth and was rocking back and forth in silent merriment. "'Freaky cowboy president?'" he giggled, glancing up at Roy, who was grinning as well.

"Uh, sorry," Ed said, glancing around the cafeteria again. Normal conversation was resuming, albeit slowly. "I, uh, just. Don't call me short."

"Is it because your last name is Mustang or because you're a hick?" Envy asked, his hand still over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Roy punched him in the shoulder.

"Sorry," Ed said again.

"You should make that your campaign slogan. Freaky cowboy president, haha."

Roy rolled his eyes and, this time, smacked Envy in the side of the head, pushing him a little. "I get it, I get it," he said to both of them. Then he addressed himself to Ed. "No calling you short. Understood." Though he was still grinning in a way that made Ed grit his teeth and prepare himself for many more short jokes in the foreseeable future. "Are you always that good at coming up with nicknames, or is it just when your height is threatened?" Roy continued.

Ed shrugged. "Whatever."

Roy glanced at Envy, who was now pushing around his salad with his fork. "He's back to one word answers, En."

Envy glanced up, first at Roy, then at Ed, and opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he was going to say was lost with the arrival of another dark-haired student, who plopped himself down on the bench next to Ed. "Ling!" Envy said, perking up immediately. "You weren't in Marcoh's class this morning. Did you sleep too late again? You missed our grand entrance. One minute after the bell but he still said he'd give us a warning."

Ed looked between Envy and Ling, the newcomer, who was sitting a little too close for Ed's highly developed sense of personal space. Envy had barely said a word to him, but here he was chattering away with this guy. Ed wondered if that signified something. He was having a hard time figuring out the dynamics of these friendships—not that he cared.

"I'm dropping that class," Ling said with a lazy shrug. "Marcoh's a hardass, I had him for Algebra I. I don't want to deal with _that_ again."

"Lame," Envy said, flicking some drops of salad dressing at Ling with the tip of his plastic fork. They spattered on the table. Unthinkingly, Ed grabbed his napkin and wiped them up, drawing the attention of the entire group.

"Oh!" Roy said. "Ling, this is Edward Elric. He's new. German exchange student. Edward, this is Ling Yao. He's another senior, and apparently too lazy to suffer through AP Calculus with us."

"I feel like it's a betrayal of our friendship," Envy commented as Ling turned to grin at Ed and stick out his hand for Ed to shake. He had a toothy grin and long, black hair (though not as long or weird as Envy's); Ed felt like he vaguely recognized him, probably from study hall. "Nice to meet you! _Sprichst du Deutsch_?"

"_Ja, natürlich_," Ed replied automatically, frowning at the obvious question. "_Und du_?"

"_Ein wenig_," Ling said, grinning widely as he switched to English. "I actually lived in Germany for a little bit, when I was young. My dad was in the Air Force. But he put me in American schools, so I only picked up a little. I guess he figured English and Chinese were plenty for a seven year old."

Ed glanced at Envy and Roy, who had been silent during the exchange; Roy looked amused, but Envy was rolling his eyes. He looked back at Ling, not sure what to say to that. "Cool."

"So where are you from?" Ling continued, managing to wolf down his pizza while questioning Ed. Ed, on his part, answered the questions gamely, though in his usual short sentences. He was trying to be on his best behavior—and that probably meant revealing as little about his school life in Germany as possible. At the same time, he made no effort to eat his pizza. The school lunch looked weird enough that he had pretty much lost his appetite, and he resolved to try to bring his own lunch as much as possible.

While Ling was interrogating him (and shoveling in his food), Roy and Envy had commenced a quiet conversation; Ed was half trying to eavesdrop and half reminding himself that he didn't actually care. He heard something about a brother, a speech, and a band, and wondered, not for the first time, what his unofficially appointed welcoming committee was doing here.

Finally, Ling finished his food and, apparently, his conversation. He pointed at Ed's tray. "Are you gonna finish that?"

Ed shook his head.

"Can I have it?"

"Pig," Envy said, breaking off his conversation to watch Ling pull Ed's tray over in front of him and dig in to that too.

"I didn't get any breakfast, and I love pizza day," Ling replied, unperturbed, with his mouth full. He finally looked up at Envy and Roy. "Why were you two late to calculus, anyway?"

"Coffee," Roy said at the same time Envy replied, "Lust."

Ed wasn't sure if he'd heard right. He frowned slightly and looked around the group. No one else looked surprised. Envy's gaze flicked to him. "My sister," he explained. "Half-sister. She forgot to buy more coffee after we ran out yesterday. And I didn't realize it until this morning."

"But was it deliberate sabotage, or was it an accident?" Ling pressed as Ed tried to keep up with the conversation. So Envy had a sister named "Lust"? He had been thinking "Envy" was just a weird name, maybe a nickname—initials? N.V.?—but maybe his family had a theme going on. This actually made things even stranger. Who would name their kids after the seven deadly sins? Were there seven of them?

"—so Greed and I threw a fit, and then Roy took me to Starbucks like I'm some teenage girl," Envy concluded, putting his elbow on the table and pillowing his chin in his hand. Ed noticed that he hadn't eaten much of his lunch either.

"And then he spilled coffee in my car, like a two year old that happens to drink coffee, so we had to clean that up to. Actually, it's amazing we even made it to class." Roy grinned.

Envy shrugged. "I would have preferred to skip." He glanced at Ling, who was powering through Ed's lunch, and pushed his own tray across the table, glancing around the group. His gaze slid away from Ed's almost immediately. It was confusing. "I've gotta go." Without any further explanation, he stood and walked out of the cafeteria.

"Typical," Ling said with his mouth full, pulling Envy's tray toward him as well.

Roy glanced from Ling to Ed, his grin changing to a smirk—the same smirk he'd had in calculus, and which had made Ed think he'd be annoying from the very beginning. (He hadn't been wrong.) "He was the one who wanted us to sit over here in the first place," Roy said mildly.

Ling opened his mouth to ask a question—probably the same thing that Ed wanted to ask—but was sidetracked as he saw someone else walk into the cafeteria, entering through the doors from which Envy had just left. "Ooh, Roy, look who it is," he said.

Ed looked. It was just a blonde girl with a scowl on his face. "Roy's girlfriend, Riza," Ling explained. "They've been dating basically since they were born."

"Since last year," Roy corrected, turning and waving.

"_Officially_," Ling retorted. "Unofficially, since they were born."

If Ed hadn't just been told that the two were dating, he never would have guessed; Riza walked up to them stiffly and stood in front of Roy instead of taking a seat. "We're finalizing preparations for the rally," she said. "I got out of AP Bio early to come get everyone together. You're allowed to skip the last two periods."

"Awesome," Roy said, getting to his feet as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. "You're coming to the rally, right, Edward?"

"Uh," Ed replied. He supposed he didn't really have a choice about it, if Winry and Al wanted to go, since Winry was his ride home.

"Show up," Roy said with a grin. He was standing so close to Riza that their arms were brushing. Now they looked a little bit like a couple. "I've gotta announce all the new students, and you'll be one of them."

Ed stared at him. "Don't you dare. I'm not coming."

Roy's grin widened. "That's the most we've heard out of you that isn't yelling about how you aren't short," he commented. "And sorry, I've gotta do it. School policy." He gave them an ironic salute and left with Riza. Ling mumbled some goodbye too and left, grabbing all three trays to put them in the trash.

Ed remained seated for a few moments, at least until the crush of people left the cafeteria. He definitely wasn't going to any rally, _especially_ not now.

* * *

Thanks for your kind reviews! They keep me going. (Actually I'm powered by coffee and self-loathing but let's keep up the illusion...)


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